Everything
by The Daring Girl in Black
Summary: Draco Malfoy isn't exactly the best at keeping secrets. Of course, this leads to his best friends finding out he's gay... and about his massive crush on Harry Potter. Sucks to be him right now. Mostly fluff, lacks a plot. R&R! One-shot.


**A/N:** SO this is my first time posting a Drarry. It's pretty terrible, very fluffy, and unedited, so bear with me. I'll never really fix anything about it. :P It's basically a fluffy bunny of a plot that I wrote in my spare time, for fun, but decided to share.

**Disclaimer:** Not my boys, but I pretend they are! After every story, I lock them back into my closet, where they belong.

* * *

The reason that I hate Harry is that I can't be with him.

I'm not allowed to be nice to him, even, much less love or like him. Although I know it's impossible to fall out of love at this point, I'll just suck it up and go through life with heartache; Malfoys do that, right? Father and Mother were set up with each other by their parents. I'll be set up with some unsuspecting girl, too.

"Potter, will you stop standing there like an incompetent oaf?" I manage to bite out when I see him in the Great Hall, standing at the doorway and talking to some Ravenclaw with long, light blond hair.

Potter turns around and glares at me. "You have enough room to walk, Malfoy," he retorts, motioning to the spot beside him. "Go ahead, unless you just want to stand here and annoy me all day, because, really, what do you have to do that's any better?"

I narrow my eyes and push Potter as I walk past him, causing him to stumble into the blonde he was standing next to. Crabbe and Goyle are close behind me, almost having to scurry to keep up with my quick-paced walk, needing to get away from Potter as fast as possible.

I sit down next to Pansy Parkinson, who rolls her eyes at me as soon as my arse meets the bench. "Draco, Draco, Draco. Will you never learn how to flirt the correct way?"

I ignore this and turn to Blaise. "So, Blaise, are you ready for the Quidditch match against Gryffindor next week?" I'm not on the team this year, but Blaise is.

"I agree with Pansy," Blaise says, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "You'll never learn to flirt the correct way unless you practice. I'm pretty sure Potter doesn't enjoy being called an incompetent oaf."

"I don't want to _flirt _with _Potter_," I sneer, pushing my plate away, no longer hungry. I would like to know how to flirt with Potter, truthfully, but it's not like it's going to get me anywhere; how would _you _feel if your rival for the past seven years decided to flirt with you? (I can see it now. _"Hey, Potter, do you have any Slytherin in you?" "What the bloody hell are you talking about? No way." "Well, do you want some?")_

It would be a very terrible, terrible exchange.

Blaise nudges me. "Next time you see him at the Quidditch pitch, walk up to him and say, _Hey, Potter, wanna ride _my_ broom?_" He snickers when I go red. "I used that on Angelina Johnson in fifth year, and... she slapped me."

"You hit on a _Gryffindor_?" Pansy wrinkles her nose and shakes her head with a sigh. "I will never understand you, Blaise Zabini." She turns to me and smirks widely. "You know, you could always use, _Oi, Potter! I just washed my wand. Wanna make it dirty again?_"

My face gets even redder as I elbow her in the ribs, and she laughs. "It's not funny," I hiss, glancing at Potter, who is sitting with that Ravenclaw at the Gryffindor table. "I _don't _like _Potter_. And I sure as hell am _not _going to use _cheesy, embarrassing _pick-up lines!"

"Really, mate, we already know that you're gay _and _that you have a thing for Potter." Blaise sighs melodramatically, giving me a look when my expression turns shocked. "Might as well admit it while you have at least a _shred_ of your dignity left."

I glare at my plate. How could they have known all this time, even though I've never told them that I'm gay? Then again, there was that one very awkward incident in the showers after Quidditch practice... "Fine. I'm gay _and _I have a thing for Potter."

"That's a very good start, Draco," Pansy tells me, patting me on the back in what she probably thinks is a supportive way. "Now, go _hit_ on the boy!"

"I can't just go up to him and _hit on him_," I snap, crossing my arms like a snotty two-year-old. "He'll think I've gone mad."

"And, when he asks you, tell him that you have... for him." Blaise winks at me and grit my teeth and ball my fists; I don't exactly want to use pick-up lines on Potter, but I know that insulting him won't get me anything but a punch in the face.

"Tonight," I say finally, looking alternatively at Blaise and Pansy. "I'll talk to him tonight. After Potions."

* * *

I have double-block Potions with Potter and the rest of the Gryffindorks, as the last class of the day. As a returning "eighth years," we have even harder potions than they give seventh years; honestly, that's not a problem for me. But I can't say the same for Potter.

You know, you would think that the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived Twice, the Gryffindor Boy-Wonder would be capable of brewing a potion or two _especially _since Slughorn likes him and would probably help him, but, no. He can't brew a potion to save his life.

I mean, not that he'd _have_ to.

"... Ron, _no_, I already told you; I'm _not _and never _was_ dating your sister, okay?..."

Speak of the devil.

"I heard her and Hermione talking, and Ginny said that she likes you and that she thinks that you like her back. And, well, it's been a month... so are you dating?"

I glance at the pair, who are just sitting down at the table next to me. Harry looks exhausted, from what, I don't know, and Weasel looks the same as always; he is a ginger, after all.

"Look, I like somebody else," Potter admits to Weasel, and I clutch my quill tighter. I'm not usually one to be jealous, but... hell, I'm _always _one to be jealous! "Ginny's great, but she's more of a sister. Anyways the... _girl_ that I like is really, really... beautiful, and sweet, if you catch her at the right moment, and-"

"Is it Luna?"

_**LUNA?!**_

Who. The. Fuck. Is. _Luna_?

"Ron, don't even guess... you don't have a chance of guessing, it's so ludicrous."

The classroom, by now, is filled with Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, and Blaise has taken his seat next to me and is also listening to Weasel and Potter's conversation.

Weasel snickers. "It's Luna, isn't it? Oh, I'm so right, aren't I? So right..."

I turn to Blaise and glare at him, because he's the closest person that I can vent to. "Who the _hell_ is _Luna_?!" I hiss, glancing at Potter and Weasel. They seem to have shut up ever since Granger arrived.

"Luna Lovegood, seventh year Ravenclaw."

I almost jump when Pansy suddenly appears behind Blaise and I. She snaps her fingers and a chair slides over to her with a screech, sitting down with the artful kick of her leg as it landed over the other. "Darling, I have to know _all _of my competition in the school, after all."

"Competition?" I ask, and it looks like Blaise is with me, due to the confused expression on his face.

"Yeah, competition. I know that I'm stunningly beautiful and whatnot, but there are few that come in close range to me," she explains, examining her nails in a classic Pansy manner. "One of which include Luna Lovegood."

"Damn, is that the girl he was talking to at breakfast?" Blaise asks, nearly wide-eyed. "She's really hot."

Pansy hits him over the head and I scowl, my quill now officially bent, but still usable. I look over at Potter and his groupies again, and they're all looking at a book; Weasel looks confused, Potter looks utterly uninterested (but apparently is trying to look the opposite), and Granger is frowning as she uses her finger to read with.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was dating her," Pansy says, shooting a glare or two at Blaise every now and again; probably because of what he said about Luna. "But _I _heard that Luna's dating that boy who killed that snake during the War... Longbottom, is it?"

"Neville Longbottom," I reply with a curt nod. "They're dating? Is it just a rumor, or are you sure of it?"

"For now? A rumor. But they do spend an awful lot of time together; honestly, it wouldn't be a surprise," she tells me, sighing as she lets her head loll back. "I need a pepper-up potion."

Just as Pansy says that, Slughorn strides into the room, late. "Sorry I'm late!" he says in an overly-enthusiastic tone, setting a few books on his desk. "I had the nastiest incident involving some gnats... I will never keep Potions ingredients in my private quarters again!" He gives a hearty laugh, and I sigh; _I wish Severus was here._

"You know, I'm starting to wonder," Blaise whispers to me, off subject. "When did our lives start to revolve around _your _love life?"

"Since this morning...?"

"Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Slughorn asks, raising a ridiculously bushy eyebrow, which matches his equally bushy mustache.

Blaise looks up innocently at Slughorn, and I _instantly _know what he's going to do. "I was just asking Draco here when mine and Pansy's lives became revolved around _his _love life," he answers truthfully. "Honestly, if he would just _tell _the guy that he liked him-"

"_Guy_?" some Gryffindor snorted. "So you _are _a faggot, after all!"

"Excuse me," Granger says gently, much to my surprise, "but are you aware that the word _fagot_ means _a bundle of twigs, sticks, or branches bound together_?"

I look for Potter's expression, since his is the only one that actually _matters_, and... I don't see it. Most of his face is hidden by his messy black hair, and the rest of it is buried in a book.

"Who cares if Malfoy likes blokes?"

Okay, okay, did _Weasel _just say that? I must be going mad. Pansy and Blaise are going to have to usher me to St. Mungos to get my head examined...

I look at Weasel in surprise and blink a few times. He shrugs at the class. "I mean, I could really care less about his sexuality. I have better things to do."

Granger is smiling brilliantly at Weasel, while I'm just staring in shock, something a Malfoy _never _does. But, honestly, I'm very, very surprised.

"Enough, enough!" Slughorn waves around his arms. "Thank you for being honest, Mr. Zabini, but, next time, shall we keep it as a rhetorical question?"

"Yes, sir."

Slughorn nods, seemingly pleased. "Very well. Now, let's get started..."

* * *

I walk out of Potions with Blaise and Pansy by my sides, Pansy shooting glares at everybody who looks at me weird; dammit, I hope word doesn't get to Mother or Father about this... they would disown me for sure...

"Oi, Malfoy, I need to talk to you."

I freeze and slowly turn around, only to see Weasel standing there, looking hopelessly awkward and rather annoyed. I blink a few times before turning to Blaise and Pansy and saying, "I'll catch up with you."

Pansy eyes Weasel suspiciously, and then nods curtly before walking away. Blaise pats me on the shoulder and tells me, "Good luck," before following Pansy.

I walk over to Weasel cautiously and eye him up and down. "What do you want, Weasel?" I ask slowly, confused. What does _he_ want?

"Look." He becomes more awkward by the second, and I see that Granger and Potter are standing a ways behind him, watching and waiting. "I just.. I wanted to tell you..."

"Oh, don't tell me," I say dryly. "You're _in love _with me, and after hearing that I'm a homosexual, you've decided to tell me in hopes of that love being requited? Mm, Weasel?"

Weasel's face goes red, all the way from the tips of his ears to his chin. "No!" he yells angrily, stumbling away from me. "I just wanted to tell you that my brother Charlie is gay, too, so maybe he could give you some advice sometime or whatever, but, no, you're just too much of a git to even-"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really, but I guess it doesn't-"

"That's nice of you... Ron...?"

"-matter because-" Weasel stops dead in his tracks and stares at me. "Did you just... call me...?" He pointed to himself, and I nodded in confirmation.

I sigh and clench and unclench my fists. "Look, could we put this foolish childhood rivalry behind us? We don't have to share Wizard's chess strategies over tea or anything, but let's not... hate each other."

After getting over most of his initial shock, Weas- _Ron_ narrows his eyes at me. "Are you being.. _civil_?"

"The War is over. I made mistakes. This doesn't matter anymore," I say, yanking up my sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. "I don't want to live in a silly little world where I get beat up because I can't keep my mouth shut. I insulted your family and friends, you put my father in Azkaban... let bygones be bygones?"

I stick out my hand for him to shake.

He glances back at Granger and Potter before eyeing my hand suspiciously. Right when I'm ready to snap from waiting, Ron gives a curt nod, and shakes my hand quickly. "Bygones."

Suddenly, Granger's over by us, as is Potter, and she's holding out her hand with a wide grin on her face. "I mean, I can forget about all the times that you called me a... _you know_ if you never do again," she chirps, seeming overly enthusiastic. She had a knowing look in her eye, and I wondered... does she _know_...?

I shake her hand and then look at Potter. "I don't think I'll be calling a truce with _you_ anytime soon," he tells me venomously before walking away, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles are white.

"Harry," Hermione sighs, walking after him. But before she does, she glances at me and says, "Thank you, though. For being civil. None of us really want to play these silly little games anymore."

Ron gives me an awkward nod before chasing after them, and I stand there for a few minutes before I let a grin stretch over my face, from ear to ear. I guess I can look over the fact that Hermione is a mudblood, and the fact that I'm now a blood-traitor. I need some friends right now.

Even if they _are _Gryffindors.

* * *

Being friends with Gryffindors... is surprisingly _easy_.

It's been about a week, take or give a few days, since our truce, and, although I wouldn't call us _good _friends, we're somewhat getting along. I'm expecting an owl from Charlie, Ron's older brother, and Hermione, Pansy and I look at guys together during lunch. Plus, she's not bad to have around during Ancient Runes...

As for Potter... he just reads whatever book is nearest when I'm around.

"I can't believe you make me hang out with a _Gryffindor_," Pansy sighs as we walk together to Charms. We have just gotten done at lunch, and Hermione is off to Herbology. "Especially a Gryffindor _mudblood_."

I shrug. "They're nice. And, anyway; everybody in Slytherin, save for a few creepy girls suddenly taking an interest, treats me as if they can _catch _homosexuality. It's ridiculous, really."

"I've noticed, darling," she says with a sigh. "At least Blaise still has his friends; perhaps I still would, too, if I wasn't caught hanging out with a _Gryffindor mudblood_ all the fucking time."

I think about saying, "Well, if they only care about blood-status, they aren't really your friend," and decide that it's much too cheesy. So instead, I say, "Pan, if you don't want to hang out with her, you don't have to. Just go eat lunch with Blaise or something."

"No, no," she shakes her head, "I can't _stand _being around that boy without you."

"Probably just the sexual tension." I sigh dramatically as we walk into Charms, and Pansy nods her head.

"I agree. It's killing me, but the arse is just so _blind_," she complains as we sit down. "I mean, you don't know how it feels... to like somebody but have them not even notice who you are..."

I give her a dirty look.

She laughs, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, yeah. Of course."

"Hey, Draco." Two large hands slam down onto the table, and I look up, only to find one of my Slytherin housemates - Theodore Nott.

"What do you want, Theo?" Pansy demands, crossing her arms and putting on her no-bullshit face.

Theo crosses his arms and sighs. "Look... do you wanna go out with me?"

My jaw nearly drops to the floor when he says that. Theodore Nott... wants to _date _me? Okay, I think I've really gone mad now. This is crazier than when Ron stood up for me in class; _much _crazier.

I look at Pansy for emotional support, but she's just smirking. "He'd _love _to," she answers for me, smiling sickly-sweet.

He scratches the back of his head and - is that a blush on his cheeks? - nods at me. "Cool. Three Broomsticks tomorrow?"

"Yep," Pansy answers, once again. "He'll see you there."

Theo walks away, and I'm still frozen in place. Theo Nott is into me; oh, it's just so comical, I laugh out loud, and Pansy gives me a weird look. "What is it?" she asks cautiously, examining me - probably for some sign that I need to be taken to St. Mungos. She'd love an excuse to get out of Charms, anyways.

"Theo Nott," I choke out, "has the hots... for _me_!" I continue laughing until Pansy slaps me, glaring. "Ouch!" I rub my cheek. "What was that for?!"

"He likes you," Pansy sighs. "At least be nice. I mean, you're lucky that the switch from girls falling head over heels for you to boys doing it was so easy. It's only been a week!"

"I like being openly gay," I say as I lean back in my chair. "I mean, I'm sort of sick of the fairy remarks, but, other than that, coming out is the best thing I've ever done.

"Correction," Pansy replies, "_Blaise _came out _for _you."

"Whatever," I snap. "I have a date, and that's all that matters. Although - do you think this'll make Potter jealous?"

"If he's interested, yes. If he doesn't show any signs of jealousy, then he's obviously not interested. And then you can move on." She frowns. "Or use the love potion I've had for three years..."

Before I had time to question her about this love potion, Flitwick walks in and class begins.

I make a mental note to ask about the love potion, and _why _she's had it for three years.

* * *

The next day at breakfast, Hermione, Ron, and Harry all come over to the Slytherin table and sit down by Blaise, Pansy and I. "Ello," Ron greets, sitting next to Pansy. Once he realizes who he sat next to though, he scooches away and makes Hermione sit between them.

Harry, left no other choice, sits in between Blaise and I. He scowls and looks at his plate.

"Morning, Potter," I say, but he ignores me. I don't know why he hates me so much... but it might have to do with the seven years of rivalry between us. "Have a nice night's sleep?"

"Don't talk to me, Malfoy," he snaps, glaring before returning to look at his plate.

"Draco, do you want to come to the Three Broomsticks tonight with Ron, Harry and I?" Hermione asks nicely, leaning over Pansy, who scowls.

"Actually," I say smugly. "I have a _date_."

Ron chokes on his food and Harry's head snaps up to look at me. "That's wonderful!" Hermione exclaims, throwing herself over Pansy to hug me. I blush when she does, but return the hug, nonetheless; I'm a little out of practice, so I hope it wasn't _too _awkward.

I really couldn't prevent the awkwardness for Pansy, though, who was under Hermione.

I look at Harry and his cheeks are red; I tell myself it's just because it's hot in here, and that's why his cheeks are red... "What?" he asks lowly, emotionlessly.

"I said I have a date. I don't like repeating myself, Potter," I tell him haughtily. "Theodore Nott. We're meeting at the Three Broomsticks tonight."

"Wait," Blaise says slowly. "I was never informed of this! Why was I never informed of this?!"

"We knew you would act like that," Pansy replies, bring a forkful of eggs to her mouth.

Blaise practically twitches as he mutters to himself about never being included.

"Looks like the mail's here," Ron comments with a full mouth, which I've noticed is a common occurrence.

I look up at all the owls flying in, and notice an unfamiliar one flying right towards me - it drops a letter right on my plate of food, and I sigh, picking it up from what _was _my breakfast.

"It's from Charlie Weasely," I state, and Hermione smiles. I open the letter, with Pansy and Hermione reading over my shoulder and Potter just forking food into his mouth, along with Ron.

_Dear Draco,_

_Ron has complained to me far too much in his letters about you, so it surprised me that he actually said that you two were some-what friends. He told me that you've just recently come out, and that you were hoping for some advice. Well, I'm going to do the best I can, but I'm not exactly an expert at being gay._

_First of all, don't jump into relationships. I've noticed that I tend to do that with a lot more experienced men and end up with a very broken heart. For them, I'm just another notch in their belt. Be careful who you fall for._

"Too late for that," Pansy whispers in my ear. I ignore her and keep reading.

_Secondly, a lot of young men are bullied for being openly gay, especially during their school years. Your best bet is to not be too public with your sexuality, and definitely don't flaunt it - because of all the hate in this world, it could also mean that you won't get a job or that a teacher will fail you._

_And Ron told me about your parents being a pure-blood family and all - I've had a very accepting family, and I'm lucky for that, but it seems that you probably won't have the same case. Wait until you're able to support yourself before coming out to them, or you could find yourself in a mess._

_Lastly, when it comes to sex-_

I fold the letter shut quickly and feel a blush run over my cheeks. Why is he talking about sex? I didn't ask for advice on _that_!

It seems that Potter has been reading the letter also, because he just kind of stares at the parchment in my hand and blinks. "Why'd ya do that?" he mumbles before going back to his food, and I just take it as a rhetorical question.

Pansy snickers. "Aw, you're afraid of having somebody's willy shoved up your arse, aren't you?"

Ron stops eating, and Blaise chokes on his food. Hermione blushes slightly and holds back a giggle, probably for my sake, and Harry's gone pale; as have I.

"Pansy," I hiss in a threatening tone. "_Shut up_. And who said I would be on bottom, anyways?"

"So much for being a lady," Blaise sighs.

Ron pushes his plate away with a disgusted look on his face. "I've lost my appetite."

"It's official," Pansy says with another snicker. "_You _are _afraid _of gay sex! Oh, this is just priceless..."

"Have I ever told you you're a heartless, soulless bitch?" I ask with my fists clenched, staring down at my food.

"Come on, it's all between friends," she tells me, slinging an arm around me. "Right?"

Hermione is first to answer. "Right," she agrees.

Ron sighs. "Yeah."

"No worries, Draco," Blaise assures me, "we're not judging here."

Suddenly, almost the whole Slytherin table is shaken when Harry gets up angrily, stomping away from the Great Hall, fuming.

Hermione begins to stand up to go after him, but I beat her to the punch. "I'll go see what's wrong with him," I offer, not leaving much room for argument as I take off after him.

He's halfway down the hall when I reach the doors to the Great Hall. "Potter!" I say, walking quickly as to catch up with him. "Potter, what the _hell _is wrong with you?" He doesn't slow down, so I say again, "Potter!"

Finally, once my legs start to get tired from chasing him, I say, "_Harry_!"

He stops and so do I. We're still about ten feet apart, and it seems like he's stopped breathing even though he's still standing. "_What _did you just call me?"

I begin to think I've made a mistake, but I just cross my arms. "I don't like repeating myself," I say in my usual, arrogant manner, and close my eyes. But the next time I open them, Harry's walking towards me, and he pushes me against the wall.

Psh... the only reason he's able to pin me to the wall is because I'm _shocked_, I swear...

He has his wand pressed up against my throat and I almost cough from the uncomfortable pressure on my neck. "_What did you call me_?" he demands, and his green eyes seem to be on fire when he says this, burning with a passion that I'd hoped to see with love or lust, not anger.

"Harry," I say hoarsely, trying not to blush but probably failing miserably.

Harry's face washes over with a foreign emotion and he pulls away from me, turning around. "Don't call me that," he commands, his back still to me. "I'm _Potter_. You're _Malfoy_. That's how it always was, that's how it will always be."

"Why?" I ask softly.

Harry laughs bitterly and turns to face me - somehow, over the past few weeks, it seems that my bitter soul has transferred over to Harry's. I've been some-what _happy _since the War ended, but... he seemed happier _before_.

He grabs my left arm and yanks up the sleeve. "This is a reason," he tells me. "The fact that you've insulted me for _years_ is a reason. The fact that you've tried to _kill me_ is a reason-"

"What does this matter anymore?" I demand, beginning to get angry. I motion to my Dark Mark. "Why does it matter, _Harry_? The War is over! Aren't we supposed to be beginning anew? Aren't we supposed to _love_, not _hate_?"

Harry stumbles back, seeming surprised by my words. He blinks a few times in utter confusion before he shakes his head. "Not you," he tells me determinedly. "_Fag_." He whips around and walks away as I stand there, glued to the floor.

I stare after him, even when he's long disappeared from the hall, and begin to feel my eyes moisture. _Don't cry over him, Draco_, I tell myself. _He's not worth it. He's not worth it_.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Blaise walks into the hallway and examines me where I am. I don't look away from where Harry was, and he frowns. "Draco-"

"He called me a fag," I say emotionlessly. "A _fag_. The boy I _love_ called me a _fag_."

"You... love him?" Blaise looks down the hall. "And he called you a... you know?" Blaise's face takes on a whole new expression, and he says, "I'll go beat him up."

"I'm not a girl, Blaise," I snap, glaring at him. "I can deal with my own problems, thank you very much. Now just leave me alone." I walk away from the spot almost reluctantly and head towards the Slytherin dorms.

Today feels like the beginning of a very, very bad day.

* * *

I sit in my dorm for the rest of the day and contemplate cancelling my date with Theo. I'll just tell him I got sick - yeah, that would work. I'll tell him I have the flu. Easy enough, really.

So far today, I've eaten at least fifty chocolates and three full boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - even the vomit ones. I've been lying here, wallowing in self-pity for around seven hours, saying some not-so-pleasant words to anybody who tried to come into the room that I've guarded with wards of every kind.

"Draco, it's almost time for your date with Theo." Pansy knocks on the door gently. She sighs when I don't answer. "Blaise told me what happened with Potter. If you don't want to go, then I'll just tell Theo that you're feeling ill." She silent for a moment. "And Draco? I'm sorry."

I sigh and continue staring at the ceiling. I've tried _everything _to make Harry like me - I've made friends with his friends, I've been _trying _to make friends with him, and I haven't insulted a single mudblood since I befriended Hermione. I don't see what I'm doing _wrong_.

The answer flies through my window and drops a letter on my forehead - Charlie's owl. I owled him earlier, asking for advice, and apparently he got it quite quickly.

I open the piece of parchment, and it reads:

_Dear Draco,_

_So the boy you like called you a fag? He's not worth your time, believe me. Falling for a straight man is the worst mistake that you can make, and, for a girl, falling in love with a gay man is the worst mistake th_at she _can make._

_Hermione owled me just a little bit ago, telling me about the problem that you owled me about, too - I know that you like Harry Potter. Honestly, considering you were rivals, she was shocked when she figured it out, too._

_It's a difficult situation, but she said that Harry shows signs of liking you - a lot of straight men, when confronted with the possibility of being gay, deny it like hell (excuse my language). They have a phase where they're homophobic, and decide to hurt the one that made them think about their homosexuality. This might be why Harry called you a faggot._

_Your best bet is to talk to Harry. And, if everything turns out okay, remember to regard the rules I talked about in the last letter._

_Charlie_

I swallow and close the letter. So Hermione knows, too; I know that Pansy wouldn't tell her, and nor would Blaise. But she's a bright witch, so I can see her figuring it out.

I get the other letter that Charlie sent me and skip through to the last couple paragraphs, where I had cut off.

_Lastly, when it comes to sex... well, this is a bit awkward. I'm going to be a tad bit cliché, and tell you the usual stuff: respect yourself, respect your partner, and be sure to only do it when you feel comfortable._

_It will hurt, I'm not going to lie about that. But there are very good ways to reduce the pain, both Muggle and Wizarding ways; I've listed the spells at the end of the letter, along with some other Muggle tips. _

_Remember; sex shouldn't just be a pointless thing between two strangers, or even two friends. It should be between to people who care about and love each other. Just remember that, Draco._

_I wish you the best of luck._

_Charlie_

I re-read both of the letters several times before coming to a conclusion - I need to talk to Harry. I carefully fold the letters and put them into my pocket, and then take down the wards I had put up.

Harry's probably in Hogsmeade right now, with his friends. I put on my scarf and cloak and then leave the castle, feeling as determined as ever. I know that, if I find out he doesn't like me, I'll be able to deal. But I want the _chance_.

On my way to Hogsmeade though, I suddenly stop - Harry doesn't go to Hogsmeade all that often. And... especially not when he's angry. So... where else would he be?

I almost instantly turn in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. He's _always _at the Quidditch pitch, which, I presume, is why he's always beating me at Quidditch...

When I get to the pitch, I see him flying on his broom, darting around for the snitch, obviously. Feeling a sudden boost of confidence, I stride towards the Quidditch pitch. Once I'm in the middle of it, I cross my arms and shout, "_Potter! _Get _down _here!"

He glances at me, so I know he heard me, but he chooses to ignore me by just continuing to chase the snitch around.

"_Potter_!" I yell again. Deciding he's not going to answer me otherwise, I shout, "Harry!"

He turns around and I _think _that he's charging at me, but the snitch passes over my head, and I duck to avoid being knocked over by Harry. I turn around to find him crashing into the ground, and I gasp despite myself.

I'm about to run over to him and give him CPR (wink wink), but then I see him flip onto his back, and his chest is heaving. So, instead, I casually walk over to him, looking down. "You look like a mess."

I'm telling the truth, too. His hair is full of sweat and mud, as is his body and robes. He has to be cold, I realize, so I tell him, "Get up, Potter."

He stares at the sky and ignores my orders. "What happened to calling me Harry?"

I sigh and we stay like that for a moment before he gets up and looks at me. "Aren't you cold?" I ask, and he looks away from me, straightening his now slightly bent glasses. "It's freezing out here."

I take off my cloak and put it around him, only slightly bothered by the fact that he's muddy and it probably won't be cleaned too easily. "I don't want your clock," he bites out, but pulls it tighter around himself.

I cock my head, and suddenly, I forget why I'm here. I lose whatever previous confidence I had and take a step away from Harry, looking down at my muddy shoes.

"What did you want, Malfoy?" he asks, in an exhausted voice. "I thought you'd never want to talk to me again."

"Because you called me a fag?" I confirm, still not looking at him. "No. I forgive you for that."

"I'm not apologizing."

"Look, Harry," I say, the words coming out of my mouth before I can think, "I can't _stand _you sometimes, okay? You're nice to everybody _but _me, and it makes me feel... hopeless."

"You don't care what I think of you," he insists. "You're the Slytherin Prince. You don't give a shit about me."

"Harry, I'm gay, and I've known for a while now. I had just admitted it the other day, and it's still a foreign thing to have everybody know," I explain. "Especially you. Because it feels like I'm basically admitting everything to you, even when I'm not."

He's silent for a moment. "Admitting... what?"

"That I like you. A lot. As in, I _want_ you," I blurt out, finally looking at him and feeling a blush creep up my neck. "I find your messy, black hair annoying and endearing at the same time, and I find myself staring at you when I don't mean to be; I love your dorky, circular glasses, and I often think about how great your clothes would look on my bedroom floor, and..." I shut my mouth and I'm pretty sure my whole face is red.

Harry's staring at me, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. "You like me," he states in a curious voice, blinking several times. "Draco Malfoy... _wants _me." Suddenly, he starts laughing, and I frown deeply as he doubles over.

"What the bloody hell are you _laughing _about?!" I demand, feeling humiliated. "I just spilled my heart out to you, and you're _laughing _about it! You're a major prick, you know that, Harry Potter?"

He looks up at me with a large grin on his face. "It's just... _comical_," he admits, still grinning. "I mean... we were archrivals, we _hated _each other. I guess I just figured that you were such an arrogant, ignorant blood-purist that you had some... _evil_ reason for making friends with Ron and Hermione. Guess I was wrong, though, yeah?"

I glare at him. "Where are you going with this, Potter?"

Harry wags his finger at me. "Uh-uh-uh. Enough with this last name basis stuff. You will call me _Harry, _and I will call you _Draco_. The way that a couple _should _address each other."

I blink a couple of times. "Couple?"

"I guess I'm jumping to conclusions," he says, stepping forward until we're just inches away. I feel my breath get caught in my throat as he wraps my cloak around both of us, his body heat radiating against me. "Draco Malfoy... will you be my boyfriend?"

"Hell yes," I breathe, and Harry laughs before I press my lips against his, using my hand against the back of his neck to keep his lips in place. He gently sits his hands on my waist and pulls me closer, the cloak still wrapped around both of us.

I gasp when I feel something cold fall on my nose, and pull my lips away from Harry's for a moment to look up at the sky - little specks of white are floating through the air, falling gently on the ground around us and in Harry's hair; the white of the snow is a major contrast to the ebony black of his hair.

"The first snowfall of the season," I mutter as I look back down at Harry; I'm just a tad taller than him.

He smiles. "Wonderful. Christmas is just around the corner, now; what are you planning on giving me?"

I press my body up against his and bury my face in his neck. "Everything."

He chuckles against my hair and whispers, "You already have."


End file.
